Intertwined
by Aria Taylor
Summary: Annabeth Chase has kept her family alive for years. When she's chosen to represent District Twelve in the Hunger Games, she'll do whatever it takes to get back to her family. Percy Jackson's mom is sick. When he's chosen to compete in the Games, he vows he'll do everything he can to get back to her. The two meet, and they wonder, is it worth winning if you lose the one you love?
1. Chapter 1

**So I had this idea and decided to write it. I hope you guys like it!**

**In this story, Katniss and Peeta and the rebellion never happened. The Hunger Games is still going strong. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or the Hunger Games.**

Chapter One

"I win," I whispered in my brother's, Malcolm, ear. The point of my knife was poking his chest, and he smiled up at me. I had him pinned on the forest floor, where we came out everyday. Sometimes we hunt, and other times, we practice swordplay or archery. Beams of light hit his face, making his dark eyes twinkle. I put my knife up and held out my hand to help him up.

"Great job, Annabeth," Malcolm said.

"Thanks." I looked at my watch. It had been a birthday present from my best friend, Silena Beauregard, the mayor's daughter. It was beautiful, with it's silver face, black numbers and hands. It was my most treasured possession. "We should be heading back. It's almost noon, and we have to get ready for the reaping."

"Oh, goody," Malcolm said sarcastically. I couldn't blame him for being bitter about it. The reaping was a ceremony to choose who would go represent their district in the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games was a show put on by the Capitol every year, to remind the districts of how we lost the rebellion. The districts were forced to send one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to go compete in a fight to the death against twenty-three other kids, who are representing their districts. Only one can survive. It's all aired on live television. It's the Capitol's way of showing the districts that they have complete control over us. That they can take our kids and kill them off and we can't do anything about it. It's cruel, really.

Malcolm and I ditch our weapons and traps in a tree and sprint to the fence that leads back into District 12, where we live. The fence was supposed to be electric to prevent anyone from escaping the district, but it was never on. So Malcolm and I came into the woods as often as we could. It was our sanctuary, our haven. We could be ourselves out here, say what we want, act how we want, without having to look to see if a Peacekeeper was nearby. We practiced swordplay, archery, setting traps for animals. In the summers, we would swim in the pond and make jewelry out of flowers. But we never dared stay out longer than a couple of hours. District 12 was small, and people would notice if you were gone. Although most people know about Malcolm and I sneaking out into the woods, we don't dare take any chances.

Malcolm slithers under the fence to the other side, and I quickly follow him. We jump up and run back to the Seam. The Seam is the poorest part of District 12. We have shabby, run-down houses that look like they couldn't last another month. The most common cause of death around here is starvation. Of course, the Capitol uses our hunger to their advantage. Say you're starving and you're family can't afford food. In exchange for putting your name in the reaping another time, you get tessera. Tessera is a year's worth supply of grain and oil. When I turned twelve, my name was put in five times. One because I had to, and four other times for half of my family. Malcolm took the other half. And the number of times you put your name in is repeating. So now, at sixteen, my name will be in the reaping thirty-five times. At eighteen, Malcolm's name will be in the reaping sixty-four times. He had to take eight tesserae for two years, because I was too young to be in the reaping. For the next two years, I will have to sign up for eight tesserae because Malcolm will be too old to be in the reaping.

As I walk down the dirt path that we call a street, I watch through the windows of the houses, I see mothers laying out their best clothes for their children on the beds. Girls brush through their hair and boys scrub their dirty faces. Since the reaping will be broadcast on television later tonight, every kid is ordered to be dressed in their best. Here in District 12, what we consider our best is a solid color dress, nothing else, for girls, and a clean shirt with jeans, dress pants if you're lucky, for the boys.

I tear my gaze from the nervous children and frightened parents, and look over to my right. Standing in the sun, in all of it's glory, sat the Victor's Village. Victor's Village is a small neighborhood with grand, fancy houses towering over the rest of the struggling district. They were built for the winners of the Hunger Games. In District 12, we have only one living victor: Dionysus Abernathy. He's supposed to mentor the tributes, but usually he's too drunk to say anything. Maybe that's why we don't have many victors.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts by my stepmom's voice, "Annabeth! Malcolm! There you are."

"Hey, Cheryl," Malcolm said. "Sorry we're late. We kinda got sidetracked, and-"

"Oh! You two are filthy!" Cheryl interrupted him. "Now why don't you come on inside. Annabeth, you can take a bath first, since you have more hair to dry."

"Thanks, Cheryl," I said. Cheryl had always been the mother I never had. My birth mother had died when I was seven and Malcolm was nine, and my dad had gotten remarried a year later. Malcolm and I were unsure about her at first, but we eventually came to like her. She treated us like her own kids.

I walked inside our little two bedroom house to be greeted by my little brothers, Matthew and Bobby. They were both seven years old. They were born a year after Cheryl and my dad got married. When Cheryl first got pregnant with them, I had decided that I wasn't going to like them, since they were my dad's kids born of a different woman than my mother, but when I held them in my arms and saw how cute they were, I couldn't help but love them. "Hi, Annie!" Matthew exclaimed. "Do you like my drawing?" Matthew shoved a drawing of a stick person in front of a square with a triangle on top. I guessed it was a house.

"I love it, sweetie," I said, smiling at him.

"No, Annie! Do you like mine more than his?" Bobby showed me his picture. It had a bunch of squiggly lines on it and what I thought was a boat, but could've been a whale.

"Hmmm," I said, pretending to think. "I like them both the same. They are both pretty great and show some great potential."

"Thank you!" Matthew and Bobby both told me. Then they went back to drawing. I smiled at them and walked into the bedroom that all of the kids shared. My little sister, Karalynn, sat on her mattress, which lay next to mine on the left side of the room. Malcolm and Karalynn's twin brother, Caleb, sat on their mattresses on the other side of the room. My stomach tightened when I saw the twins. They are my biological siblings, and this year is their first year to be in the reaping. Malcolm and I didn't let them take any of the tesserae, for fear that they might be chosen. Malcolm was helping Caleb get his wild mop of dark hair tame. They were standing in front of the cracked mirror that stood in the right corner of the room. I walked over to Karalynn, who was deciding between two pretty dresses.

"Hey, Kara," I said, sitting down on my mattress. We couldn't afford actual beds, so all of us each had our own mattress that were our beds. "What are you doing?"

"Cheryl put these out for me," she said, still studying the dresses. "She said that she wore these to the reaping when she was my age. I'm trying to decide which one to wear." Both of the dresses were pretty. One of them was a denim that buttoned all the way down. The other was a pale yellow, with a v-neck. "Which one do you think I should choose?"

"Hm," I said, examining the dresses. "I'd go with the yellow one. But the denim is pretty too."

"Go with the denim," Caleb said from across the room.

I shot him a playful glare. "Are you just trying to disagree with me, Caleb?"

"Yup," Caleb said confidently. I rolled my eyes.

"You better go get in the bath," Malcolm said. "It's almost one, and the reaping starts at two."

Karalynn and Caleb both fell silent at the mention of the reaping. They had been nervous about it ever since they turned twelve in February. "Don't worry," I told them. "There is no way they're going to choose you. You're names are only in their once."

Karalynn nodded solemnly. She went back to choosing her dress. Caleb took a shaky breath and went back to fixing his hair. Malcolm glanced at me and I knew we were thinking the same thing: what if it wasn't enough? What if taking the tesserae, doing everything to make sure that the twins won't get picked; what if it's not enough?

Malcolm broke his gaze and turned back to Caleb. I sighed and walked out of the room to the our family's bathroom, where my bath awaits.

(********)

"You look beautiful," Karalynn gasped as we examined my dress in the mirror. It was a beautiful silver, which matched my eyes perfectly. It came down to my knees and didn't have any sleeves, so I wore a light white sweater, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. My watch from Silena was strapped tightly on my arm. On my feet, were a pair of silver ballet flats. My hair was curled more than usual, and half of it was up, while the other half was resting on my shoulders.

"I look like I'm a townsperson," I whispered. The townspeople are considered rich in District 12. They can afford food and always dress much nicer than the Seam kids on reaping day. As I examine myself in the mirror, my father walks into the room.

"The boys are ready to go," he says. When I turn around, my father's eyes widen.

"What?" I ask.

"You look amazing," he says.

"Thanks, Dad," I say, smiling.

"That was your mother's dress," he whispered.

I turn around to the mirror and examine my dress with newfound interest. I try to think back, to remember if she ever wore this dress in front of me. "Really? It's beautiful."

My dad nodded. "She was wearing it when we first met. You look exactly like her, you know."

I stare at myself in the mirror. I can see it, yes. My gray eyes, she had the exact same eyes. And our hair, blonde and naturally curly, unlike anyone else in the Seam, with their dark hair. Our features were the same too: small nose, full lips, high cheekbones. "Yeah," I said. "I guess I do."

"Hey, don't worry," my dad said. "You won't get picked. It'll be all right. You'll see."

I smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Well, we should probably get going. Come on, Karalynn." Karalynn hopped up off of the mattress and followed me out the door.

"Wow," Malcolm and Caleb both said when Karalynn and I walked into our family room. Karalynn had chosen the pale yellow, v-neck dress. She wore her worn black, lace-up boots with it, which actually looked good. Her dark hair was down and flowing over her shoulders. She really was beautiful.

The boys looked great too. Malcolm was wearing the gray polo shirt I had got him for his birthday. It would've been really expensive, except I had traded a fox I had killed out in the woods for it at the Hob, an illegal black market. Malcolm and I go there all the time and trade game that we've hunted in the woods or sweaters that Karalynn had sewn for food and other things that our family needed. With the polo, Malcolm wore nice jeans and his work boots. Caleb wore a white button-down shirt with jeans and his nicest dress shoes.

Bobby and Matthew wore their usual attire: t-shirts and old jeans. Since they weren't in the reaping, they weren't required to dress nice. But once they were entered into the reaping, they had to wear nice things. I clutched my stomach. Just the thought of these two sweet little boys being thrown into the reaping made my stomach twist.

"Annabeth, are you all right?" Cheryl asked.

I smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just nerves." Cheryl nodded. She was wearing a light blue dress that reached her knees, and her usual white Keds, now dirty from years in District 12. Her long, black hair was pulled back in a messy braid.

"You don't need to worry," she comforted. "It'll be okay." I nodded.

"All right, is everybody ready?" Cheryl asked. "Let's go." We all followed Cheryl out the door. Karalynn walked right next to me, her hand gripping mine. Her face was beaded with sweat, and she was rubbing her lips together, like she does when she's nervous. I looked over at Caleb and Malcolm. Caleb was gripping Malcolm's hand just like Karalynn was mine and he was breathing rapidly. Malcolm glanced at me. A worried look was etched on his face. I tried to give him a look that said, _Don't worry. They'll be okay._ He smiled gratefully at me, but still didn't look convinced.

We entered the town square where the reaping was to take place. It was all the same as last year, the section where everyone not in the reaping sat, the sections where the kids sat according by age. The stage was set up in front of the Justice Building and Mayor Beauregard, Dionysus, and Lila Pearson, our Capitol representative, sat. Lila did the reaping and helped the tributes while they were in the Capitol. She wore the Capitol attire, of course, crazy hair, loud clothes, freaky make-up. She always looked different every year. This year, Lila's hair was bright purple and she wore a neon green dress with more ruffles than I can count. I pointed her out to Karalynn and she giggled.

The eight of us separated, my dad, Cheryl, Matthew, and Bobby going to sit in the back, Malcolm and Caleb going to sign in where the boys go, and Karalynn and I going to where the girls sign in.

"Good luck," I told Malcolm before we parted. I leaned down to Caleb. "And may the odds be ever in your favor," I said in the posh Capitol accent. Caleb laughed and Malcolm smiled.

"You too," he said. I gave Caleb a hug and turned to Malcolm while Caleb gave Karalynn a hug. "It's not going to be you or Caleb," I told him. "It'll be okay."

"Thanks," he said. "It's not going to be you or Karalynn either." I nodded and pulled him in for a hug. Then I turned to Karalynn.

"Come on, Kara," I said. "Let's go sign in." I dragged Karalynn towards the line of girls waiting to sign in. We got in line behind Silena.

"Hey, Silena," I said. She was wearing a beautiful floor-length white dress. Her hair was curled and put up in a tight ponytail. "I like your dress."

"Thanks," she said. "I like your's too. It looks good on you."

"Thanks." We exchanged a few more words as we progressed in line. We reached the Peacekeeper who was signing everyone in and told her our names. I said good-bye to Silena and walked with Karalynn over to where the twelve-year-old girls were sitting. "Here we are," I said. "Just sit somewhere and I'll see you when it's over. Okay?"

Karalynn hugged me tightly. I leaned down and returned the hug. "Annabeth?" she whispered in my ear. "I'll be okay. Don't worry. You just worry about you."

I pulled away. "I'm not worried about you. You could never be picked. Your name is only in their once."

"Thanks," Karalynn said. "Good luck."

"Good luck," I said and walked off to where the sixteen-year-olds sit. I took a seat next to Silena. Then the reaping began.

The mayor walked up to the microphone and said, "I would like to welcome you all to District 12's reaping for the eighty-fourth annual Hunger Games. Thank you for making time today to come out here with your kids." The mayor sounded pained as he was talking, like the last thing he wanted to do was be here, welcoming us to the most dreaded day of the year. He started reviewing the history of the Hunger Games, how the Capitol obliterated Distict 13, and how we have the Hunger Games as a reminder that we cannot overcome the power of the Capitol. I zoned out. What would happen if I got picked? Who would Malcolm confide with? Who would Karalynn crawl into bed with at night when she has nightmares of our mom dying? No, if I were picked, I'd come back. I know I would. I can fight, and I can survive.

I was brought back to reality by the sound of Lila'a voice echoing throughout the square. "Welcome! I'm so happy to be here. Now, let's get started right away. Ladies first!"

Lila made her way across the stage to where the giant glass ball that held the names of all the girls in the district. Thirty-five of them had my name written across them: _Annabeth Chase_. Thirty-five chances that I'll be the one headed to certain death. I hold my breath as Lila draws the paper dramatically and walks back over to the microphone. I pray as she unfolds the paper and reads the name. _Please not me. Please not me._

"Karalynn Chase!"

Lila's words ring in my head. Everything freezes. My hands, my feet, my mouth, my mind. The words exchanged today, telling each other that everything is going to turn out okay, is not true. Everything is not okay. Everything is wrong. I see Karalynn's stunned expression on the screen and watch her get up from the chair. She holds her head high as she walks, despite being terrified. Maybe that's what gets me moving, seeing her act strong when she's so scared.

I jump up and see Malcolm standing up also. I glance at him and I know what I'm going to do.

"Karalynn!" I run towards her. "Karalynn!"

Karalynn whirls around at the sound of her name. Peacekeepers intercept me, pushing me away from Karalynn. I fight against them and yell, "I volunteer! I volunteer to take her place!"

At the sound of my words, the Peacekeepers pull away. I run to Karalynn and push her behind me. I say, out of breath, "I volunteer as tribute."

"Well," Lila said. "What an excellent surprise. I see we have a volunteer."

I turn and bend down to face Karalynn. "Kara, go to Dad and Cheryl. It'll be okay. Just go to Dad and Cheryl."

"No, Annabeth!" Karalynn cried. Tears streamed down her beautiful face. "I'm not leaving you."

"Kara, I will be fine," I said pushing her away. "Go." She nodded and ran off towards Dad and Cheryl. I stand up and walk up the stage. I look towards the audience to see everyone's reactions. Most people just looked stunned, like I would actually willingly volunteer to compete in the Hunger Games. Some looked at me with admiration. Some looked at me like I was stupid. Then I saw Malcolm. His eyes bored into mine, and the look on his face was truly horrified. I couldn't blame him. His sister was just chosen to compete in the Hunger Games and then his other sister volunteered to go instead. Talk about a family crisis.

"What's your name?" Lila asked me in her ridiculous Capitol accent.

I gulped. "Annabeth Chase."

"Oh, so I'm guessing that was your sister. Same last name."

I glanced back to where the rest of my family were sitting. Karalynn was sitting in my dad's lap crying. My dad looked torn, trying to comfort Karalynn and trying to hold it together at the same time. Cheryl was holding Matthew in her lap, who was completely oblivious as to what was going on. Bobby looked pretty much the same way in the chair next to them. Cheryl was breathing hard, also trying to keep it together.

"Yeah," I said weakly. Just then, Dionysus decided it would be a great time to fall of the edge of the stage. The mayor and a couple of Peacekeepers ran over to help the drunk victor.

"Well," Lila said, "I sure hope he's all right." That sounded like the last thing she hoped. "Let's choose our boy tribute!" She made her way over to the boys ball and grabbed a paper. She dramatically waved it as she had with the girl's and the opened. I held my breath as she read out the name.

"Malcolm Chase."

No.

This couldn't be happening.

Why do bad things always happen to me?

I watched Malcolm's face as his name is read out. A look of fright crossed his face, but was quickly replaced by a mask of bravery. He made his way up to the stage. When he passed the twelve-year-old boys section, Caleb latched onto him. "No, Malcolm! Don't go! Let me go instead! I can protect Annabeth!"

"Let go, Caleb. I'll be fine. Let go," Malcolm said sternly. Caleb, reluctantly, let go and and went back to his seat. He wiped away tears and sat down.

Malcolm walked onto stage and glanced at me. I'm sure I looked awful: tear-stained cheeks, red-shot eyes, stunned expression. For a second, I saw his bravery flicker and fright crossed his face. I swallowed and smiled weakly at him. He smiled weakly back.

"Well, in all of my years, I have never seen two siblings chosen as tributes!" Lila said enthusiastically. "Well, shake hands."

I turned to Malcolm and shook his hand. Never in my years of worrying, had I thought that my brother and I would be chosen as tributes together. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back.

It was only when we were whisked inside the Justice Building did I realize what had just happened.

I was chosen to compete in a fight to the death against my brother.

**That turned out better than I thought. Review if you liked it! Also, who should be the president? I don't know who it should be!**

**Goodbye!**

**"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." Matthew 7:1-2**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am soooooooooooo sorry! I haven't updated in forever! FYI, I probably won't update a whole lot until I finish my MoA story. Just so you know. **

**Thanks for all of the reviews! I was a bit surprised by all of the positive feedback, but I'm glad you liked it! Here's a new chapter for all of you awesome people!**

**I was asked if this could not follow the Hunger Games plot. I'll try my best. I do have some surprises in store that aren't in the books, but there also might be some things that are. So yeah. **

**Disclaimer: I'm not Suzanne Collins, and last time I checked, I wasn't Rick Riordan either. So I don't own the rights to Hunger Games or PJO. :'(**

Chapter Two

I'm in serious danger of crying.

Lila pushes Malcolm and I into the Justice Building quickly after the reaping. Peacekeepers line the walls, probably to ensure that the tributes don't try to escape. The foyer led off to two rooms. I'm pushed into the room off to the left and Malcolm to the right. I look around. A small couch sat in the center of the room, a coffee table in front of it. The room has small decorations in it, like plants and vases. Pictures hung on the walls. There was a window, but bars prevents anyone or anything to crawl in or out.

I walk over to the couch. It was so beautiful, denim and soft. At home, we have one couch, and it's ripped so badly, most of the stuffing is falling out. Still, we're fortunate to even have one. I try to decide whether to sit down on the edge politely, or jump onto it and lay down, surrounding myself in it's softness. I've decided to jump, when Cheryl comes in with Bobby and Matthew. "Annie!" they both exclaim. Matthew runs into my arms and Bobby hugs my legs.

"Hey boys," I say as cheerfully as I can manage. They're both so cute and innocent. It's a shame I might not ever see them again. "How are you?"

"Sad!" Bobby says. He looks up at me and I see that tears are welled up in his eyes. "Mommy says that you are going away for a little while. I'll miss you!"

I have to choke back sobs. "I'll miss you too, Bobby." I untangle him from my legs and give him a hug. "Be good for me, okay?" I tell them

"Yes!" Bobby says. I smile and give Matthew a hug and tell him the same thing. Then I turn to Cheryl. I see that tears are also in her eyes as well.

"Cheryl," I say. She opens up her arms for me to walk into. I do and am engulfed in her warmth. She strokes my hair and tells me comforting things, like, "It'll be all right. You'll see," just like a real mom would. I pull away, and Cheryl pushes hair out of my face.

"I'm scared," I whisper.

Cheryl nods. "I know. But you're the strongest, bravest girl I know. You know how to survive. You know how to fight. Same with Malcolm. I know that if Malcolm doesn't come back, you will. And if you don't come back, Malcolm will. District 12 will have a winner this year, trust me. They chose the best couple they could ever choose to send to the Hunger Games."

"Thanks, Cheryl," I say gratefully. "Have you seen Malcolm yet?"

"No. Fredrick and the twins are talking to him now. They'll see you in a minute." Cheryl smiles at me. "Annabeth, it'll all turn out okay. Just wait and see."

"Yeah," I mutter bitterly. "I'm going to a fight to the death against my brother, and everything is going to turn out all right."

"You're not going to get anywhere with that attitude," Cheryl says playfully. I smile weakly. Just then, the Peacekeepers come and take Cheryl and the boys away. "Wait!" Matthew yells. "Annie!"

"Matthew!" I yell back. The door closes, blocking out all the other screams for me. I run up to the door and jiggle the handle. It's locked. I fall onto the couch, breathing heavily, trying to keep the tears from falling.

The door opens and Dad, Karalynn, and Caleb walk through it. The twins both are crying and Dad looks like he could break into tears any second. "Annie!" Karalynn exclaims. She runs over to where I sit on the couch and jumps onto my lap. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

I wrap my arms around her. "What are you apologizing for, Kara? You didn't do anything wrong."

Karalynn sniffled. "This wouldn't have happened if I had never been chosen."

"Thats not your fault, Kara. You can't do anything about it." I try to comfort her, but it's hard to when she's crying so hard. Caleb comes and curls up next to me. I wrap my other arm around him. Dad comes and sits next us. We sit there, crying and comforting, for what seems like forever. Then the Peacekeepers come to take them away. I stand up and hug Dad. "I love you," I say.

"I love you too," he says. One of the Peacekeepers pull him towards the door, but he stands his ground. "You're my little girl, Annabeth. Remember that."

Tears well up in my eyes as I nod. "I will."

"Annie!" Caleb screeches. He pulls away from the Peacekeeper and runs up to me. "If Malcolm dies, you have to win. Promise me you'll win."

"Caleb, I-"

"Promise!" Caleb's pulled towards the door again.

"I promise!" I yell just as the door closes. I run to it again and jigge the hande, well aware that it's locked. I turn around and lean against the wooden door. I cover my face in my hands and slide down to the floor. Why did this happen to me? To Malcolm? Our family? How was our family going to survive without the two of us to hunt for food, get supplies in the Hob, take care of the kids?

The door opens and I jump up before I can fall backwards. Silena walks into the room, her eyes red and puffy, like she'd been crying. She envelopes me in a tight hug. I hug her jus as tightly back. "Don't die," she whispers in my ear. "Please don't die. You're the only friend I've ever had. Please don't die."

"I'll try," I say back. "But I can't promise. I'm going in with my brother, you know."

Silena pulls away. "I know," she says. "But I need you to come back. You're my best friend, my only friend. If you die, who will I sit with in the cafeteria at school? Who will be my partner for every activity? Who will I talk to?" She had a point. Silena was a loner at school, despite being the mayor's daughter. She kept to herself and would only open up if you kept talking to her, pushing her to talk to you. Then you'd discover a whole other side of her.

"Take this," Silena says. She held out a necklace, a beautiful silver chain, an owl dangling off of the end. "It's been in my family for generations. Nobody wears it anymore, so I asked my dad if I could give it to you as a good luck charm. Wear it in the arena."

I take the necklace out of her hand. "It's beautiful. Thank you." I suddenly get an idea. I take off the watch that's strapped onto my wrist and put it in her palm. "Take this. To remember me if I die."

"But you-" Silena started.

"Just take it," I say. "Just in case."

Silena looked at me, then nodded, her dark curls bouncing. She opened her mouth to say something, but a Peacekeeper came in to take her away. I pull her in for another hug. She whispers in my ear, "Good luck." Then she's gone.

I stare at the door after Silena leaves. The owl necklace still dangles from my hand, and I slip it around my neck. It really is beautiful. The light hits the owl, causing it to sparkle. It's eyes were sapphires, Silena's favorite gem. I'm surprised that something this beautiful and priceless would be in District 12, even if it did belong to the mayor. Still, I'm glad I have it. Now, when I'm in the arena fighting for my life, I can glance down at it and remember who I'm fighting for. My family. My best friend.

A Peacekeeper opens the door, a sign to tell me that it's time to leave. I take a deep breath and walk boldly out the door. Malcolm and Lila stand in the foyer. Lila looks as peppy as ever. Malcolm has a determined look on his face. He looks at me and smiles. I smile back and walk over to him. "Hey," he says, like it's a normal day. Not like we were just chosen to fight to the death against each other.

"Hey," I reply. I change my tone to where it's almost a whisper. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm still getting over the shock," he whispers back. "I almost burst into tears when Caleb yelled at me to promise to win if you couldn't. And when Karalynn climbed into my lap and cried. And when Matthew and Bobby cried because I was leaving. Let's just say that everyone made me want to cry."

"Ditto," I say. Then, trying to lighten the mood, I hold up my necklace. "Look what Silena gave me."

Malcolm's eyes widened. "Woah. She must be loaded."

"It's been in her family for decades. She told me I had to wear it in the arena."

"If they'll allow it," Malcolm pointed out. He's right, of course. The Gamemakers have to approve of the tribute's tokens. They've done this ever since one tribute wore a watch into the arena, which could catapult poison darts at the touch of a button. Ever since then, the Gamemakers have to thoroughly check everything the tribute's bring into the arena to make sure it can't be used as a weapon.

"All right, tributes," Lila says. "Let's gets going! The train is scheduled to leave in five minutes!" Malcolm and I are pushed out the door and into the car that's taking us to the train station. I'm squished inbetween Malcolm and Lila. Lila must've put on a whole bottle of perfume, because she reeks of lilacs. I try my best not to gag, while my dear brother tries his best not to laugh at me.

"This is going to be a superb Hunger Games," Lila boasts. "Everyone is saying so. The Gamemakers say they have many surprises is store for our lucky tributes! It's going to be grand!" Lila goes on about what everyone in the Capitol is saying about the Games this year. I try my best not to puke. Between her perfume and what everyone's saying about the Games, I feel like I could vomit any moment.

Finally, we arrive at the train station. As always, it's swarmed with reporters and cameramen. My stomach clenches at the thought of Karalynn almost having to go through this. We climb out of the car and immediately cameras start flashing and people start asking questions.

"How'd you feel when you're sister's name was called out?"

"What were you thinking when you're brother was chosen?"

"Do you intend to fight against you're brother in the arena?"

I ignore all of the reporter's questions and keep my face straight, showing no emotion. After watching years of Hunger Games, I've seen people cry, yell, complain, try to escape. I realized that the best thing to do at the train station is to ignore everyone. Then you can't be made out as a weakling or a target. I glance over to my right and see that Malcolm is doing the same thing.

After pushing through the mob of people, we reach the door to the train and climb inside. I gasp. I've never seen a room so beautiful before. I figured we were in the dinig room, because there was a big table filled with food: bread, fruit, soup, chicken, steak, pork chops, cheese, cookies, scones. I tried really hard not to run over to the table and stuff my face with everything. Malcolm seemed to be doing the exact same thing. He stared at the food hungrily, opening and closing his mouth, as if anticipating the food.

"Well, aren't you guys hungry?" Lila said loudly. Malcolm nods and practically runs over to the table. I follow his lead. I load my plate with everything there was. By the time I was done, my plate was almost a foot high. I reach for my fork, but stop myself. I look over at Lila, who is politely eating a plate of chicken. I smile to myself and starting picking up the food with my hands and stuffing my mouth. Don't get me wrong, my parents taught me good table manners. I just wanted to see what Lila would do.

I look over at Malcolm, and flash him a knowing smile. He nods and puts down his fork. He grabs a handful of the mashed potatoes and stuffs it in his mouth. I do the same thing and we both look over at Lila. I almost spit out my mashed potatoes. Lila had a horrific expression on her face, like we'd just murdered the chef for making rice instead of peas. She stared at us like we were from another planet. Which, I guess compared to the Capitol, we were.

I make a point of shoving more potatoes in my mouth, then wiping my hands on the tablecloth. "So, Lila," I say, my mouth full, "how long have you been doing the reaping for District 12?"

"Uh," Lila replies, still horrified by our lack of table manners, "about fifteen years."

"So you came when I was three," Malcolm says. His mouth was full too.

"Um," Lila answers. She looks around the room. "Oh, look! Here comes Dionysus!" She quickly gets up and leaves the room. Malcolm and I look at each other and start laughing.

"That," Malcolm said, wiping his eyes, "was priceless!"

I was about to reply, when I heard someone behind me. I turn around to find Dionysus, victor of the fiftieth Hunger Games, standing behind me. He wore tan dress pants and and a white, button-down shirt, that was tucked in nicely. His few strands of hair were slicked back and his eyes were bright, telling me he was sober. "So," he says, "you're the tributes."

"Um, yeah," Malcolm says. "Any advice? Strageties?"

Dionysus walked over to the table and poured himself a cup of wine. He took a sip and said, "What are you're names?"

"I'm Malcolm. This is my sister, Annabeth," Malcolm says, gesturing to me.

"Hi," I say.

"Siblings," Dionysus mutters. "Shame. How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Malcolm says slowly. His eyebrows scrunch together. "What does this have to do with the Games?"

Dionysus ignores him, and looks at me. "Sixteen," I say, staring at him right in the eye.

Dionysus nods. "What part of the district you from?"

"The Seam," I answer, confused. I'm starting to agree with my brother. What does this have to do with the Games?

"Hobbies?"

I got angry. Here was a victor, our mentor, the guy who's job was to get one of us out of the arena alive, and he's asking a bunch of silly questions. I grab a knife off of the table and throw it towards him. I throw it to where it doesn't hit him, but it gets close enough to him to where he gets the point. Dionysus looks at me, his eyes wide.

"Why are you asking us all of these questions?" I demand. "You're supposed to be helping us, giving us advice, teaching us strageties. And all you're doing is asking us questions about our personal life! You know, that's probably why District 12 doesn't have any victor other than you. You don't help any of the kids, so they all die!"

Dionysus looks at Malcolm, who is looking at him expectantly. " Fiesty one. She good with the knife?" he asks.

Malcolm nods. "The best."

"To answer your question," Dionysus says, nodding in my direction, "I always start with personal questions. I want to get to know the tributes. Once I know the tributes, I know which stragety to use. So, what part of the district are you from again?"

Malcolm and I look at each other. "The Seam," I answer.

"Ah," Dionysus says. "You two must be natural survivors then. Tell me, have you ever snuck out into the woods?"

I look at Malcolm, asking if I can tell him or not. Dionysus seems to understand us, because he says, "Don't worry. Nobody's going to hear you."

Malcolm and I both nod.

"Good, good," Dionysus says. "Then you should have the upper hand if the arena has a forest. Now, friends?"

"I don't have any friends," Malcolm says, shrugging his shoulders.

"I have one," I answer quietly. "Her name's Silena."

"Good. What skills do you two have?"

Malcolm and I start rambling off things we've worked on together: archery, swordplay, throwing knives, setting traps, throwing spears. Dionysus nods and says ways the skill could come in handing in the arena. "Have you had any experience with guns?" he asks. Malcolm and I both shake our heads. We go on like that for a while, Dionysus asking quesions and Malcolm and I answering them. By the time we were finished, it was around 7:00 and time to watch the recaps of the reapings.

(*********)

I'm dead.

As I watch the reapings from the other districts, one word crosses my mind continuously: _wow_.

The tributes from District 1 look tough. The boy is tall and buff, with cold eyes that seem to analyze your every move. The girl was beautiful with long, dark, curly hair and tan skin. Her eyes were bright blue and inviting, but through that, I see a layer of viciousness. I know that she's strong and ready to kill. The way that she pauses at every face and examines it, as if seeing if they were strong or an easy target, is a dead giveaway. The kids from 2 really stuck out to me. The girl was beautiful, like the girl from 1, but she seemed less...willing to kill. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were friendly, not vicious. She didn't have that killer feel to her, unlike her partner, the boy tribute. He was tall and muscular and stood on the stage scanning the crowd, sending out an impression that nothing could beat him. And he was handsome, with his shaggy, dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes. I knew instantly that he'd be a favorite in the Capitol.

The tributes from District 4 also stuck out to me. The girl looked about my age and had frizzy red hair. Her green eyes shine brightly and she flashes a dazzling smile at the crowd. She seemed excited that she was chosen, unlike the boy. He looked a couple years older than me, about eighteen. When his name was called, Percy Jackson, he walked up to the stage bravely, but I could tell he was shaken up. When he got up on the stage, and I got a full view of him, I had to keep myself from gasping. He was beautiful. He had shaggy, jet-black hair and his eyes were the color of the ocean; not blue, but green. His skin was dark, probably the result of hours in the sun. He scans the crowd with a worried expression on his face. He's like me; not too worried about himself, but about someone, or someones, special who he's leaving behind. I wonder who. Sibling? Parent? Girlfriend?

The rest of the reapings come and go, but I'm not paying too much attention. There's two beefy tributes from 7 who look tough. Two from 11 who look clever. And then there's us. District 12. The camera focuses on Karalynn's face as her name is being called out. Her stunned expression is quickly masked by a brave face. It then shows Malcolm and I both standing up and exchanging terrified looks. I run up and volunteer for Karalynn. Malcolm, who's sitting next to me on the couch, squeezes my arm when it shows me telling Karalynn to go to Dad and Cheryl and Kara's screaming and crying. I smile gratefully at him. When it shows me up on stage, I'm surprised by how I look. I scan the crowd with calculating eyes, and my face is determined. When I answer Lila's questions, my voice is steady and strong. I look like a tribute who has a chance at winning.

Malcolm's name gets called. The camera zooms in on his face, which is slightly pale. He walks up to the stage bravely and glances at me. The camera then shows my face, which is the exact opposite of what it was before. Now, I'm just flatout scared. My gray eyes are wide and I'm pale also. It shows us smiling at each other, as if saying, "Hey," like nothing is wrong. We shake hands and the screen shows the Capitol seal and the anthem plays. The reapings are over.

Dionysus, Lila, Malcolm, and I all sit silently. "Well," Lila says, breaking the silence, "it seems like we have an interesting batch if tributes this year. But I'm sure one of you will win."

"Thanks, Lila," I say, giving her a small smile.

"Well," Lila continued, "I'm going to head to bed. We have a long day tomorrow." And on that note, she hopped up from her spot next to Dionysus and headed off to her room. Dionysus got up quickly after and went to his room, leaving Malcolm and I behind.

"What are you thinking?" I ask Malcolm, who was staring into space.

"Tommorow," he answers simply. "We're gonna arrive at the Capitol. And the opening ceremonies."

I roll my eyes. They always have an opening ceremony to show off the tributes to the Capitol. The tributes each get a stylist, who put them in costumes that show off their district's industry. District 12 is coal mining, so every year, our triibutes are dressed up as coal miners. It's embarrassing, really.

"Wonder what we're going to be dressed up as this year," I say sarcastically. "Maybe we're going to be the coal itself. Two giant lumps of black in a chariot. Brilliant."

Malcolm laughed. "Yeah. Who knows with the Capitol."

I smiled, but the smile quickly faded. "Malcolm, I'm scared," I say quietly.

Malcolm looked at me. "I'm scared too," he answers. "But we'll get through this. Just like we always do."

"But this is different," I argue. "Both of us aren't coming home. It's one of us or neither of us." My eyes tear up. "I don't want you to die," I add quietly.

Malcolm wraps his arm around me. "It's gonna be all right, Annabeth. You'll see."

"That's exactly what we told the twins, Malcolm," I say, pulling away from him. "And it wasn't true. We were both taken away from them. They were left alone."

"They have Dad," Malcolm says weakly. "And Cheryl."

"Dad's never been the same since Mom died. You know that Malcolm. And Cheryl isn't their real mom. They need _us_, Malcolm."

"And they'll get one of us," Malcolm said.

"But it's not the same."

"Does it matter, Annabeth?"

"Yes!" I yell at him. "Yes, it matters, Malcolm. Because together, we take care of them. Together we get food. Together we train. It's not going to be the same with just one of us there. We'll turn out like Dad did when Mom died: broken and overcome with sadness. We'll try to be there for Kara, Caleb, Matthew, and Bobby. But we won't be the same. I won't be the same. You won't be the same. No one will be the same."

Malcolm stares at me. "Annabeth, I'm sorry. I-"

"Whatever," I say, still mad at him. "I'm going to bed."

**Wow. That one was kind of stinky. Not a lot of action. Oh well. I've had major writer's block, so I haven't been able to come with something to write. Ugh. It's so annoying.**

**I'm just going to explain this real fast. A lot of the characters from PJO, like Dionysus, are going to be OOC. Because if I made Dionysus drunk and mean, he'd be a lot like Haymitch. So I made him nice and willing to help. Same with some other characters. But with the main characters, like Percy and Annabeth, I'll try make them IC. **

**OMG! I LOVE MALCOLM! Sorry, just had to get that out. But seriously. He's so much fun to write about. There's not a lot of him in the Percy Jackson books, so I love getting to write his personality. It's so much fun! **

**"The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10 **


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about not updating in, like, ages. I was focused on another story. But now that that's done, I can update more often! Yeah! **

**So this is in Percy's POV. I've decided to do two chapters in Annabeth's POV and two in Percy's POV. That way you can see what both of them think about the Games and more importantly, about each other. *wink wink* :)**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Rick Riordan and Suzanne Collins.**

Chapter Three

Percy

I hate the Hunger Games. You would think that living in District Four, a Career district, I would have been raised to want to be in it. But they never brainwashed me. I know that the Games is the Capitol's way of controlling us, not a way for the districts to show off.

I thought that I was safe. I'm eighteen years old and this was the last reaping I was in. I only had to get two tesserae a year, unlike some other people who had to get six. Even though those two multiplied every year, I never thought that I would be chosen until my name was called that dreaded summer day.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The sound of shuffling feet echoes through District Four. A sense of dread is in the air. Today is reaping day.

"You look nice," my mom, Sally Jackson, tells me. She tucks a strand of her brown hair behind her ear as she looks me over. I'm wearing something of my dad's: long black slacks and a white shirt. The kids are required to wear dressy clothing since the reapings are televised later tonight.

"Thanks, Mom," I say studying my appearance in the mirror. "But its not like I need to look nice. I'm not going to be chosen."

"That's right," my mom agrees. We always talk like this on reaping day. It's like our good luck charm. Maybe if we say it enough, it'll come true.

"You look a lot like your father, you know," my mom says. I look at her. She rarely ever talks about my dad. "You have his eyes. And the same color hair. And when you wear those clothes, you look like his long lost twin."

I am going to reply, but my mom starts coughing. I run to her side and help her stay upright. More and more she has these coughing fits. You see, my mom is sick with a disease that doctors can't figure out. There's another reason I can't get chosen. If I die in the Games, my mom dies also. I'm the one thing keeping her alive.

"Are you all right?" I ask once she stops coughing. "You don't have to go to the reaping. You're sick enough to be allowed to stay home."

My mom shakes her hand, like she's waving away the problem. "No, I'm fine. But thank you for the concern, Percy."

A ear-popping train noise sounds, signaling that it's time to head to the Town Square for the reaping. I look at my mom. She smiles at me. "Time to go, Percy," she says. "Lets get this over with."

My mom and I walk out the door of our little house. The salty smell of the ocean hits us as we walk out. Other kids younger than me walk close to their family, terrified of being chosen. My heart aches for them. I remember what it was like to be twelve and in my first reaping. I was so scared of hearing my name called, to have to leave my mom. I think I still have that fear inside of me, but I've learned how to conceal it.

The Town Square is busy, but quiet. Everyone has sullen faces. Everyone looks at each other, wondering who the tributes will be this year. I say good-bye to my mom and walk over to check in. I can feel her sad eyes watch me as I go.

"Name," the Peacekeeper says.

"Percy Jackson."

"Age."

"Eighteen."

The Peacekeeper writes down the information and then calls, "Next." I walk over to the section where the eighteen-year-old boys sit. They all have sullen faces. I know what they're thinking. I'm thinking of this also. The boy tribute will most likely be one of us. The odds are not in our favor.

Truly Evans, our Capitol representative, taps the mic to get our attention. Not that she needs to. We're all watching the stage, anxiously waiting for the reaping to begin. "Hello, District Four!" Truly exclaims in her usual chirpy voice. "Who's excited about this year's Hunger Games?" Truly looks at the crowd, expecting an enthusiastic applaud. She gets a few from the kids who train at special academies, but mostly silence.

"Well, lets get started, shall we?" Truly says. "Ladies first!" She walks over to the bowl with all the girls' names in it. I wonder who it's going to be. Mikayla? Audrey? Amanda? Madison?

Truly walks back to the podium as she waves the paper around for emphasis. You can hear everyone suck in their breath as she unfolds the paper and reads out the name.

"Rachel Dare!"

Huh. Wasn't expecting her to be chosen. She's the daughter of one of the richest men in the district. She never had to put her name in more times for tesserae and she trained at the academies ever since she could walk. And, she also happens to be my ex-girlfriend.

Rachel walks up to the stage with a skip in her step. She always wanted to be chosen. When she gets up on the stage, I can see that she is wearing brilliant smile and her green eyes are bright. She's wearing a floral, knee-length dress with sandals. Her frizzy red hair is up in a ponytail.

"So, Rachel," Truly says, "how does it feel to be chosen to compete in the Hunger Games?"

"Awesome!" Rachel replies excitedly. "I'm so ready to go fight. It's been a lifelong dream of mine. I'm so honored."

How did I ever date her?

"Well, I'm glad!" Truly states. "Now, onto the boys."

A nervous energy sweeps through the crowd. My hands get all sweaty and my stomach flips. Natalia walks over to the boys' bowl and draws a name. The only thought running through my head is, please not me, please not me, please not me.

Truly opens the paper and reads out the name. It echoes through the Town Square and penetrates my heart.

"Percy Jackson!"

I've been chosen. After years of believing I was safe, that I wouldn't be chosen, I am proved wrong. I was never safe and I'm still not. I never will be.

The other guys all give me sympathetic looks a I walk up to the stage. I can hear the whispers being exchanged behind my back as I walk. My mom is pretty well-known throughout the district, so everyone knows that she's sick and everyone knows that I'm her only family left.

I get up on the stage and am immediately blinded by the light. I lift up my hand to block it out and Truly pulls me over to the mic.

"So, Percy," she begins, "what about you? Are you excited about being in the Hunger Games?"

Should I answer truthfully or lie to make the Capitol happy and not show up my district? The answer is obvious.

"Yes," I lie. "It'll be exciting to show off my skills as a fighter."

Truly smiles. "Of course. And it'll be exciting to watch. Well, good luck to both of you. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Rachel and I shake hands and the Peacekeepers walk up on the stage to take us inside. I search the crowd for my mom. I see her just before the Peacekeepers drag me away. I see the smile on her face just before I'm pulled into City Hall.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I have to win. There's no other option. My mom will die if I don't come back. I make a vow right in the City Hall of District Four that I will do whatever it takes to come back to my mom.

My best friend, Grover Underwood, visits me first. He and I have been best friends since we were twelve years old. He has curly brown hair and bad acne."Hey, man," he says when he walks in. "You feeling all right?"

I nod. "I'm fine. Did you see my mom on your way in?"

Grover laughs. "Glad to know you appreciate me coming here."

I sigh. "Sorry, man. I'm just really-"

"Worried about her," Grover finishes, nodding his head. "Yeah, I know. I'll take care of her while your gone."

"What if I don't come back?" I ask Grover. "What if I die out there in the arena?"

Grover laughs, like it was the funniest thing ever. "Yeah. You losing. That's funny."

"Grover, I'm serious!" I exclaim. "There's a good chance I won't. What happens then?"

Grover claps his hand on my shoulder and looks at me in the eye. "Then I'll take care of her. I promise. But it's not like you won't come back. I believe you can do it."

"Thanks," I tell Grover, only half believing what he said. Yeah, I could win, but there's a bigger chance that I won't. It's me against twenty-three other people.

"You're going to win," Grover reassures. "Promise me."

"I promise," I say without hesitation. Maybe I do have more faith in myself than I realize.

A Peacekeeper comes to take Grover away. "Hey," he says quickly, "if you break your promise, I will bring you back from the dead and kill you again. You hear me?"

"I won't break my promise," I say, laughing. "Trust me."

Grover hugs me. "Be safe, Perce. I'll see you soon." The door shut behind him. I try not to think that that was the last time I'll ever see my best friend again.

The door opens again. My mom walks in, clutching her jacket tighter around her. "Percy," she says opening her arms.

"Mom," I say, choking back a sob. I walk into her open arms and hug her, taking in her sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. I have no idea where she got that scent since there was no sweets in District Four that we could afford. But this is the scent she's always had.

"You're going to win," she says, stroking my hair. "I just know it."

I pull away from the embrace gently. "I am going to win," I agree. "I promise."

My mom smiles and I remember something. "Why were you smiling at the reaping?" I ask.

She looks around the room, like she's afraid of being caught. Then she leans up to my ear and whispers, "Because I know that you're going to do some act of rebellion to defy the Capitol. I can see it in your eyes that you won't let them change you and that you'll make sure you know that. And I'll never be more proud."

"I love you, Mom," I say, trying not to cry. I give her another hug.

"I love you too, Percy," she says. I hear the door open and know that it's time for her to go. She pulls away and kisses my cheek. "See you soon."

She says it with so much confidence, it makes my heart ache.

OoOoOoOoOoO

I walk out of the small room I was put in to say my good-byes, to see Truly and Rachel talking.

"Percy," Truly says, "are you ready to go?"

I nod.

"All right," Truly announces. "I think we're ready to head to the train station!"

Truly makes me sick. She's a typical Capitol citizen. She's always in the latest styles. Today she's wearing a deep purple dress that had a giant flower sewn onto the side. She has matching purple heels that are so tall, I don't understand how they're legal. She's got long, curly red hair that would be pretty down, but she wears it on top of her head with a billion flowers clips hidden in it. I don't get how she thinks that's stylish.

We walk out to a car that will take us to the train station. It's a small silver car that shines in the sunlight. When we get inside of it, I see that the seats are leather and plush. Rachel and I both sink back into them while Truly sits properly upright. I don't understand why she has to act so proper. If I were her and got to drive everywhere with seats like these, I would always sink into them like this.

We arrive at the train station. A train stands still on the tracks, glistening in the sun. Reporters swarm the station, holding microphones and notepads, waiting for our arrival. Rachel and I exchange looks. We've never had this kind of attention. We follow Truly out of the car and through the mob of reporters asking us questions.

"Percy, you seemed to be worried about someone when your name was called. Who was it?"

Truly gives me a look that says _don't answer_.

"Rachel, what are you most excited for during this years Games?"

Truly gave Rachel the same look, but Rachel didn't seem to get the memo.

"Probably the other tributes. I think it'll be fun to see their skills to know what I'm competing with," Rachel answered confidently.

"Did you know your fellow tribute, Percy, before the reaping?" another reporter asks.

Rachels face lights up. "Of course! We're dating."

What?

I look at Truly who's eyes are narrowed at Rachel. She turns to me and says, "Get her. We're going to be late."

I make my way through the crowd. The reporters don't move when I ask, so I have to push through them to make my way to Rachel. I grab her arm and pull her back towards the train, while she talks to a reporter. I'm in complete awe of how I ever dated her.

We finally get to the train and climb aboard. Rachel and I both gasp. I'm in heaven. A 56'' TV is on the far wall, showing past Hunger Games. Sofas and large chairs sit in front of it so people can sit and watch it. A table sits next to it. Every kind of food I can think of is piled high on platters. My mouth waters and my stomach growls. I realized that I haven't eaten that day, due to nervousness.

Truly looks at me and smiles. "Well, aren't you hungry?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I ate like a pig, which is probably what I looked like to Truly.

After I was done, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and leaned back, satisfied. Rachel and Truly were chatting, talking like they were old friends. I couldn't understand what they were talking about; something about clothes, which I had no knowledge in.

Just when I was about to get up and watch some TV, a man came in. He's tall and has a long, scraggly beard. He's skinny and moves subtly and quietly. I probably wouldn't have heard him come in if he hadn't looked right at me and caught my eye. Because his eyes were the oldest, wisest eyes I've ever seen.

"Percy Jackson," he says quietly.

"Yes sir," I answer back.

"Chiron!" Truly exclaims. "Come, join us."

Chiron looks at me. His eyes scare me. They're old and look like they've seen many things no person should ever see. When the look into mine, they look sad, like they've seen my future and it isn't good.

A silent understanding passes between us. "Actually," Chiron says, "I'd like to speak to Percy privately. Just to get to know him and such. Come, Percy."

A shudder runs through me when he says my name. It's like he knew me before the reaping. But that's impossible.

Truly nods. "Of course. I'll just stay here with Rachel." Her and Rachel go back to talking about how skinny jeans looked good on some people but awful on others. Chiron gestures for me to follow him. I get up and follow him through the train until we arrive at a bedroom.

"This will be your room," Chiron clarifies as he opens the door. The bedroom looks like everything else in the train: heaven. The bed was a king size with blue, fuzzy blankets covering it, completed with white, plush pillows. A closet is on the other side of the room, filled with clothes of all different sizes. A door to a small bathroom was open on the far wall.

"Wow," is all I can say.

"Sit, Percy," Chiron says, gesturing to the bed. I sit.

"Percy Jackson," he says, rolling the name off his tongue.

"Sir," I say, nodding. This situation is getting more awkward every second.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Chiron continued. "I'll help you in anyway I can to get you out." He leaned toward me and whispered, "I know your mother."

My eyes widened. "How?"

"Ah, well, she went to my school as a child. We were good friends until I was chosen in the reaping. Anyway, my boy, enough about me. Tell me about yourself. You talents, your interests."

"Um, I love to swim," I answer. "And I'm good at it too."

Chiron nodded. "That's expected for tributes from District Four. Anything else? Something unique?"

I tried to think of something I could say without getting into trouble. "Well, I like to, uh, play soccer?"

I could tell I wasn't being helpful. Chiron's eyebrows were furrowed together. He says reassuringly, "Nobody can hear. It's okay to answer truthfully."

I took deep breath. "I love swordplay."

Swordplay is illegal in District Four. They say it's because we can "hurt one of our fellow citizens" but I know better. It's because the Captiol is afraid that if we learn how to fight, we can overthrow them. They're not concerned about our safety, but their own safety.

Like I said before, they haven't brainwashed me.

Chiron nods, clearly satisfied. "That would be very useful in the arena. Would you say you were good?"

My mom taught me to not brag about my strengths. Right now, I'm throwing that rule away. "Yeah," I answer. "Probably the best in the district."

Chiron laughs, a mellow sound. "Prideful much? Anyway, that's good. Swordplay, plus swimming. That should help you a lot in the arena. Now, can you tell me about your home life?"

I launch into my life story. Neither Chiron or I pay attention to the time until I'm done. It's almost five.

"Well," Chiron says jokingly, "you've had a dark past."

I snort. "Thanks."

"No," Chiron protests. "That's a good thing. It'll help you in the arena."

"How?"

"You've been through much more than most of those tributes. With your dad dying, your mom remarrying a jerk, then her getting sick, you know how to deal with tragedy. The deaths in the arena shouldn't bother you."

I laugh. "I guess you've got a point."

Chiron nods. "Well, let's go back to the main room. Truly and Rachel will be waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Chiron looks at me like I just kicked a puppy. "Why the recap of the reapings, of course."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I have no idea why I ever thought I could win.

I'm going to die. It seems like the Capitol chose the toughest, most ruthless kids out of every kid in the country to fight me. District One, of course, have the worst tributes. They, and District Two, win almost every year. This year, a tough looking pair was chosen. The girl is beautiful. Her long, dark hair glistens in the shining sun. Her bright blue eyes look happy that she was chosen, but I've learned to see beyond people's appearances. This girl tribute is vicious and dangerous. I make a mental note to avoid her in the arena.

The boy is as vicious and dangerous as the girl, but he doesn't try to hide it. He glares at everyone in the crowd, daring them to volunteer. His blue eyes aren't bright like the girl's. They're cold and penetrating. I shiver.

The boy from Two is just like the boy from One. He stares straight ahead, sending out message that says nothing can beat him. He looks like he works out regularly. His muscles bulge through his shirt, begging to be noticed. His hair is dirty blonde and shaggy, like mine. I'm suddenly worried about my appearance. Did I look tough or weak? Someone who could win or an easy target? I find myself leaning forward, Rachel at my side, eagerly anticipating our reaping.

They show District Four. Truly flounces onto the stage and does her signature, "Happy Hunger Games!" She draws from the girls' bowl and announces Rachel's name. As Rachel walks up there, the actual Rachel sitting next to me mutters to herself about how a piece of her hair was sticking up and how she was wobbling as she walked. I roll my eyes.

Truly walks over to the boys' bowl. I suck in a breath. I never realized how important the reapings were to the tributes until I was one. This is where the country sees you for the first time. I hope I made a good impression.

Truly calls out my name and the camera zeros in on my face. I look shocked. My eyes are wide and I don't move for a second. Well, it's better than breaking down like the boy tribute last year did.

I get up on the stage and I realize that it's noticable that I'm worried about someone. That could work in my favor. The Capitol citizens love someone who's not worried about themselves, but someone else.

Rachel and I shake hands, then the screen goes to the District Five reaping. My heart pounds. Did I make a good impression? Or did I look like a weakling? Chiron's smile tells me that I did good.

"Well done you two!" Truly says excitedly. "I'm sure you'll get many sponsors!"

Rachel snorted and tucked her knees up against her chest. She had changed into comfortable sweats and a t-shirt and was sitting next to me on the floor. "I hope so. I don't think I looked that strong."

I resisted the urge to tell her that the Capitol will like her plenty since she was so excited about competing.

"At least you didn't look vulnerable," I mutter without thinking.

Everyone looks at me. "What do you mean, Percy?" Truly asks.

I shrug. "Did you see me? Everyone knew that I was worried about someone. It was obvious. Now everyone knows that I have a weak spot."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Perce," Rachel reassures, taking my hand. I pull away from her and scoot away a little bit. Truly gives me a questioning look, but turns her attention back to the TV.

"Oh, look!" she exclaims. "It's District Twelve! I heard that this one was really interesting."

I look back at the TV. Their Capitol represenative, Lila Bish, walks onto the stage, as perky as ever. Out of all the representatives, Lila is the perkiest. She introduces all of them and starts with a, "Ladies first!"

I find myself holding my breath as Lila draws the name, though I know no one in that district. But I feel something in the pit of my stomach, something that tells me this district that I've thought so little of may be very important to me one day.

Lila opens the paper and reads the name. Her voice echoes through the silent district. "Karalynn Chase!"

All is quiet as a twelve-year-old girl with long dark hair walks up to the stage. I hear Rachel catch her breath beside me. I know that she loves little kids and hates to see them in pain. The little girl's, Karalynn, eyes are wide, but she takes a deep breath and pushes tears back as she walks.

Two kids stand up. A girl from the section for sixteen-year-old girls and a boy my age. The boy has dark hair like Karalynn, but the girl looks totally different. She has long curly blonde hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. Her skin is tanned and she wears a pretty silver dress. She looks different from the other two, but she has the same sparkle in her eye that the other two have. I assume that the three are all siblings.

This blonde girl runs from her spot toward the girl. "Kara!" she cries out, her voice cracking. "Kara!" Peacekeepers come to hold her back, but she struggles against them, determination sharp in her eyes.

"I volunteer!" she screams. "I volunteer to take her place!"

The Peacekeepers back off and the blonde runs towards Karalynn and pushes her behind her. She looks up at Lila and confidently says, "I volunteer as tribute."

Lila looks shocked. "Well, what an excellent surprise. I see we have a volunteer."

The blonde tells the Karalynn to go find their parents. Karalynn screams and cries, but obeys. My heart breaks as the blonde watches her sister go, then walks up onto the stage and introduces herself as Annabeth Chase.

I muffle a gasp. Now that I see Annabeth in full view, I see just how beautiful she is. Her blonde hair, which I brushed off without a thought, cascades down her shoulders and frames her face. Her lips are full and she has high cheekbones. Her eyes are beautiful; a stormy grey, swirling with pain, anger, and determination. She searches the crowd, probably looking for her family. She gives up and stares straight ahead, plastering a look of determination to cover up the pain she's feeling. My heart aches for her. I want nothing more than to reach out to her, envelope her in my arms-

Woah. Where did that come from?

I don't have time to think about Annabeth because Lila is announcing the boy tribute. She draws a slip of paper and opens it. Annabeth sucks in a breath as Lila reads the name aloud.

"Malcolm Chase."

Annabeth's eyes widen. Everyone in the train car gasps. I never anticipated this. Brother against sister.

The eighteen-year-old boy from earlier walks up to the stage. His face is expressionless, but his eyes shine with true terror. When he passes the twelve-year-old boys section, a boy that looks just like Karalynn latches onto him and screams for him to let him go instead. My heart pounds. What an awful situation to be in. Malcolm tells him harshly to let go.

"Well, in all my years, I have never seen two siblings chosen as tributes!" Lila announces as Malcolm walks on the stage bravely. Annabeth does nothing to conceal her fear. She stares at her brother wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open. When Lila tells them to shake hands, Malcolm smiles at Annabeth. She puts on a brave face and smiles back. My heart breaks.

The screen goes dark. The reapings are over. The four of us sit in silence.

"Well," Truly says slowly, "now I know what everyone meant when they said interesting."

"More like heart-wrenching," Rachel stated.

I stare at the floor. How am I supposed to win if I have to fight either one of them? I couldn't do it, and that's just from watching the reapings.

"I'm going to bed," I say and walk out of the room, ignoring the three sets of curious eyes that follow me.

**Meh, not my best. Oh well. It's really hard to write the beginning of this. I don't know why. It just is. But in the next chapter, they arrive at the Capitol! Yeah! That should be fun to write!**

**Some notes about characters: I really didn't want to make Rachel the bad guy. I kinda like Rachel, but I needed some tension between Percy and Annabeth, and Rachel was perfect. Ya know, since she likes Percy in the books and all that hip hop... And Chiron is their mentor. Not sure if that was clear or not. **

**And just so you know, I'm HOPEFULLY going to post a new story tomorrow. It's Percy Jackson. Go check it out! But no promises about it being posted tomorrow. I'm only halfway through the chapter and I've got a ton of homework to do. **

**"Even a child is known by his actions, by whether his conduct is pure or right." Proverbs 20:11**

**And here's a quote for you all amazing people!**

**"Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you deal with it."**


	4. Author's Note

**Hey guys. Sorry if you thought this was an update. I just need to tell you all something.**

**I think I'm going to discontinue this story. The keyword in that sentence is _think_. I really like the idea of this story. The whole plot makes a lot of sense in my head, but when I try to write it, it doesn't come out right. And right now, my heart just isn't into it. So I'm going to stop writing it for a little while and work on my Percy Jackson fanfic, Begin Again. If I do continue, which I might, it will be a while down the road.**

**So feel free to come at me with pitchforks and torches and whatever else you want to attack me with. I feel so bad. The other day, I was looking at the amount of favorites and followers this story had, and I felt so bad. But I think that when an author doesn't have their heart in their story, they should stop. It's not going to be good if my heart isn't in it.**

**Wow. I sounded really wise just then. I'm going to stop with the deep talk now.**

**So again, I'm so sorry! I really hope that one day, I'll be able to continue, but right now, I just can't.**

**Whew. Now that that's off of my chest, I can go and update Begin Again.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hi. Sorry about the long absence, blah, blah, blah, it hopefully won't happen again, bah, blah, blah, you guys have heard it all before. **

**Okay, so I got WAY to many reviews telling me not to discontinue this, so I didn't. Obviously. So your welcome. **

**But I'm back with a new chapter! I hope you like it! It's short, and not too exciting. It'll get more exciting though, I promise. Especially once they get into the Games. *evil grin* **

**Disclaimer: All rights to Rick Riordan and Suzanne Collins.**

Chapter Four

Percy

_I'm five years old again. I'm back in District Four, in my house, made warm by the fire in our small firepit. It's just the two of us-Smelly Gabe is, for once, at work. _

_I'm sitting on the sofa in the main room. My right leg is propped up, a bandage wrapped around the knee. I can see the red ooze bleeding through, and it makes me want to throw up my lunch. _Blood is supposed to stay inside your body, _I think. _That's why it's there in the first place.

_My mom is at the stove, stirring the stew that she made for dinner. It's a rare thing when she makes something as good as this. The scent of it wafts through the room and into the surrounding bedrooms that branch off from this room. The scent is so tangible, I want to reach out and bite the air, hoping that the liquid goodness will fill my growling stomach and make me forget about my throbbing leg. _

_While running through the small neighborhood with Grover and a couple other friends, I tripped and ripped my knee open. It hurt like nothing I had ever experienced before, but because I'm a man, and men don't cry, I held in my tears until I got home and my mom wrapped it up. _

_"Mom," I say hesitantly, "when will my knee stop hurting?"_

_She looks over her shoulder and smiles sympathetically at me. "Soon, Percy," she says, her voice soft and soothing. "Pain is only temporary."_

_"But why is there pain?" I ask, my voice whiny, even to me. _

_My mom stops stirring and turns off the stove, then makes her way over to me. She sits down next to me and puts a comforting arm around me. I'm hit with that same smell: sugar and chocolate. I breath in deeply, then settle up against her. _

_"Pain comes from injured nerves that shoot off signals to the brain," she explains. "The brain interprets these signals as pain."_

_Even though I'm only five, I can still understand what she's talking about. My mom had begun teaching me when I was very young about science and history and english. I know the basics of the human body. _

_"But why did it happen to me?" I complain, rubbing my eyes. _

_My mom laughs. I don't understand what's so funny. "Things happen to us for a reason, Percy," she answers, laughter hidden beneath her tone. "Though we may not always know what it is at first, eventually we'll figure it out. It's just another obstacle in life."_

_"So why did this happen to me?" I question, gesturing to my knee. "I'm not going to be able to run or swim for a long time!"_

_My mom laughs again. "It won't be that long, Percy. As for the lesson..." She purses her lips in a way to make it look like she's thinking. "Maybe it'll teach you not to be so clumsy and be careful!" She pokes my stomach, making me laugh. _

_Suddenly, the door slams shut, and in stumbles Smelly Gabe, my stepdad. His eyes are glazed over and he trips every other step. Even at five, I know that he's drunk. _

_"Gabe," my mom says in her usual warm tone, "you're home just in time for dinner. We're having stew."_

_Smelly Gabe completely ignores her and turns her attention to me. "What happened to the kid?" he drawls._

_"His name is Percy," she snaps, a sharpness taking over her usual sweet voice as she stands up, her body nonchalantly moving in front of mine. "And he tripped and fell. I already took him to the doctor to have it looked at."_

_My stepdad turns his attention to her. His eyes are wild. "You took him to the doctor?" he says angrily. "Do you know how much he charges nowadays?"_

_"I'm aware," my mom assures him. "And I'll find the money to pay for i-"_

_In a fit of anger, Smelly Gabe trudges over to my mom and strikes her across the cheek. She cries out-a horrible, doleful wail-and clutches her cheek, tears springing into her eyes that I can easily tell she's trying desperately to hold back. _

_Anger surges through me-how dare he touch my mom like that?-but it lasts only for a moment. Because right after he strikes my mom, Smelly Gabe turns to me, and my anger is quickly replaced by fear. _

_I can't help but wonder, what lesson is there to learn out of this?_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

That's the question everyone wants answered, isn't it? That one question for those terrible situations in life: why?

I used to wonder that all of the time. Why did I live in District Four? Why did my dad leave us? Why did my mom marry Smelly Gabe? Why do we have the Hunger Games? Why are kids forced to kill each other? I used to openly wonder about these things too. My mom would be so scared to take me out in public for fear of what might slip out of my mouth.

Now that I'm older, I've learned to ignore that question. Things will happen and there's nothing you can do about it. By the time I was eight, I'd given up on wondering and I just let life happen. It seemed easier that way, to me. To not spend every second wondering why, and to just live life. To not worry and let things work out on their own.

But after the reaping, this question keeps coming back to me: _why did this happen to me?_

And now I'm sitting in a stainless steel room, wearing nothing but something that feels like a trashbag, and waiting for my stylist to come in and get me ready for the opening ceremonies.

Why was I chosen? Out of the hundreds of boys, why was it me? That's like actually finding a needle in a haystack. Was there a reason? A specific reason why me, of all people, was chosen out of nearly a thousand boys?

I hear the door open and I look up. And gasp.

A beautiful woman is standing in the doorway. I can tell that she's a Capitol citizen; she wears makeup, which nobody living in the disticts, not even the Careers, can afford. But this lady is different. Her makeup isn't heavy and bright, abnormal colors. It's natural. She has kaliedoscope eyes, which sparkle all different kinds of colors-blue, green, a soft yellow, brown. Her hair is honey colored and pulled back into a neat, yet messy bun, strands falling into her face. She's wearing a simple red dress that's tight on her torso and falls loosely from her waist. It cuts off slightly above her knees. Her shoes, though, show that she's a Capitol citizen. They're six-inch stiletto heels with spikes all down the sides and on the heel.

"Hello," she says, smiling and walking over to shake my hand. "I'm Aphrodite."

"Your name is Aphrodite?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. I immediately blush.

Aphrodite laughs. "Yes, my parents were kinda Greek mythology freaks."

"My real name is Perseus," I say. "After the son of Zeus, which is kinda ironic, since I like water more than heights."

"Well, Perseus-"

"Percy," I interrupt.

"Percy," Aphrodite corrects herself," we should probably get down to business."

I sigh inwardly. I guess our playful conversation ends here. I was hoping that we would talk for as long as poossible so I could avoid the costumes for the ceremony tonight. I guess I failed.

Aphrodite seems to sense my disappointment and disgust, because she takes a seat next to me and puts both hands around one of mine. Her hands are so small and soft, that the teenage boy in me comes out and all I can think about is this: _The most beautiful lady in the world is holding my hand_.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you," she says quietly. "I'll do my best to help you in every way I can, but you have to be strong to and play with fierceness. You are a Career tribute after all."

I look her in the eye. "Then let's get to those costumes," I say, thankful that I got a stylist who doesn't congratulate me and tell me every ten seconds how lucky I am to have been chosen. I'm happy that I got one who just might understand me.

But that gratefulness disintegrates when Aphrodite gets a mad gleam in her eye at the word "costume".

I have a bad feeling about this.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Aphrodite's beautiful, cool, and collected outside masks a complete maniac.

Three hours later, I'm dressed in worn out jeans (a material we can never afford at home), a v-neck, hunter green t-shirt, a sleek black raincoat that weighs a ton, and a belt with hooks and nets hooked onto it. Based on the history books at school, this is how fishermen dressed a long time ago. I don't understand why I have to wear this-it's not how fishermen dress now. But Aphrodite insists that it's perfect.

"Now, remember to smile a lot while riding in the chariot," Aphrodite instructs while in the elevator taking us to the first floor, where we'll get on our chariots. "Most of the Careers while be stony-faced and serious, but that's not the way to go. People love a friendly, yet strong person, and that's what you are. So smile and wave."

I nod, although I'm not really listening. I'm too preoccupied with watching the floors go by through the glass walls of the elevator. I've never been on an elevator, so this is an adventure for me.

"Are you even listening to me?" Aphrodite asks, amusement leaking through her stern tone.

I grin sheepishly. "Sorry. I've just never been in an elevator before."

Aphrodite looks surprised. "Really? Don't you live in District Four?"

"The poor part," I answer monotonely.

Aphrodite smiles and says, "Then you know what life is really worth. You have something to fight for."

I look at her. "Thank you."

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing me to the twenty-three other tributes.

If I thought they looked fierce during the reapings, then they look ready to kill now. There's the two tributes from One who are dressed in shining white clothes; the girl in a Greek-style gown and the boy in a snow-white tuxedo. The tributes from Two are dressed in army green shirts and cargo pants. Both wear multiple weapons on their belts, such as javelins, guns, swords, and other assorted weapons. The other tributes are in different costumes each representing their district, but these Career tributes stand out to me.

Aphrodite guides me over to Rachel and her stylist, a young man in a sparkling blue suit and wearing matching eyeliner. Rachel's wearing the same thing I am, but her t-shirt fits tight to her body, showing off her curves. Her hair is pulled back into a fishtail frenchbraid and she's wearing eye makeup, which actually looks pretty good on her.

"Hey," I say.

"You look good," she says, smiling at me.

"Thanks," I reply uncomfortably, wanting to say it back to her, but feeling that she'll probably interpret it as flirting. I keep quiet.

Aphrodite guides both of us over to our chariot. "This is Damon," she whispers to me, gesturing to Rachel's stylist. "He's new this year."

I nod and walk over to introduce myself as Rachel introduces herself to Aphrodite.

"You must be Percy Jackson," Damon says, shaking my hand. "Rachel told me so much about you."

Oh, fabulous.

"Nice to meet you, Damon," I reply. "I hope it was all good things she told you."

Damon laughs. "Of course, of course."

Just then, Chiron and Truly walk over here, Truly's heels clicking on the tile floor. "Oh good, you're down here!" Truly explains. "You two look fabulous!"

Rachel smiles. "Thank you," she says. "I really love my hair. I told Damon he has to teach me how to do it."

"It is very beautiful," Truly agrees.

Chiron turns to me. "You look very handsome, Percy," he says, amusement gleaming in his eyes. I know that he's remembering his opening ceremony, and how crazy the costumes were then.

"Alright, District Four, gather around!" Truly's shrill voice calls. "This is the most important event during the Hunger Games. It's where the sponsors see the tributes for the first time. Now, Rachel, Percy, make sure you smile and wave and be open with the audience. People love tributes who are open with them and easygoing. So just relax and have fun out there."

It sounds like a peptalk before a race or something, not encouragement for the Games. But it seems like that's the best Truly can do, so I nod like I agree.

"Alright," she says obviously satisfied. "Let's go get in the chariot. The ceremony is starting in a few minutes."

The group starts walking just as the elevator opens behind us. Wondering who could be so late, I turn around.

It's the siblings from District Twelve. And they are probably the most stunning out of all of the other tributes. The girl, Annabeth, is wearing a tight black shirt and blackskinny pants, which shows off her atheletic figure nicely. Also, she wears a black leather jacket and black boots. Her older brother, Malcolm, I think, is wearing the same thing, but not so tight. His dark hair is tousled and Annabeth's hair is in a messy braid, a black headband keeping the blond hairs out of her face. One of their stylists press a button and both their costumes light up slightly, resembling an ember. I grin. It's a clever costume, an ember, since their main industry is coal.

But it's not the costume that makes both of them stand out. It's the way they carry themselves. Annabeth's chin is jutted out in a defiant way, her dark eyes gleaming. Malcolm positions himself slightly ahead of her in a protective way, sending out a silent message that no one will touch his little sister without having to go through him first. A sharp pang of homesickness hits me. I used to stand like that before my mom, ready to beat up anyone who tried to get to her.

"Percy," Chiron says gently, "come on. There will be plenty of time for admiring tributes tomorrow during training.

Training. It didn't even run through my head until he mentioned it just now. A wave of panic rolls into me. The Gamemakers will be there tomorrow, observing us. What if I mess up? I'm supposed to be a Career tribute, but I never went to an academy like most people. What if I make a complete fool of myself? I shake my head. I need to focus on the ceremonies which are happening right now.

I get into the chariot right as the trumpets sound and the doors open, letting the first chariot through them and onto the Capitol streets.

**Review! Please! Let's try and get to 65 reviews, okay? That would make me the happiest writer ever!**

**And go and check out owlsrock54321's stories! They're both Percy Jackson, and I think you'll like them! **

**"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matthew 28:20**


End file.
